


Not Technically Lying

by Rianne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rianne/pseuds/Rianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has known he's bisexual since he was sixteen, but he's never told anyone, not even his best friend Seamus. This would be less of a problem if Seamus wasn't so obviously straight. Or if Dean didn't have an amazingly inconvenient crush on him. Dean/Seamus (Deamus) slash. Takes place three years after Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Technically Lying

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: I have a multi-chaptered Dramione fic called Inosculation, and at some point while I wrote the twelfth chapter, I produced this line: “[Hermione] helped Dean and Seamus (who had finally gathered the courage to ask one another out last year) move into their new flat.” That was a spin-off story waiting to happen, of course. So I sat down to write a little Dean/Seamus side-story, and my efforts spawned this monster of a one-shot, which is nearly 7,000 words long. You can’t trust me with a keyboard.   
> This story is technically in the Inosculation universe, but it really doesn’t have much of anything to do with that story. As such, you don’t have to read Inosculation to understand this fic. Of course, I recommend reading it anyway, because I’m into shameless self-promotion.  
> Three lovely people helped me with this fic: my betas Caroline, Marnel, and Rianne. Thanks to all three of you!   
> I hope you enjoy this little figment of my imagination. Here it is: Not Technically Lying.

“So how come you never drink Firewhiskey anymore, Dean?” Seamus Finnigan put down his mug of tea with slightly too much force and slightly too little dexterity. He caught it just before it fell over. Disaster averted, he put his feet up on the table and looked expectantly at his best friend, seated on the other side of the couch. They were in Dean’s flat, on a cold, dark Saturday evening in September. If previous Saturday nights were anything to go by, they would be here for another few hours. Sometimes they played card games or watched films; sometimes they turned to videogames instead; sometimes they just talked; sometimes they got spectacularly drunk. It had been months, though, since they’d indulged in their passion for Firewhiskey.

“Oh, you know,” Dean responded vaguely, smiling at Seamus’ clumsy movements.

“No, I don’t know. I’m askin’,” Seamus said.

“Did you know that too much drinking can cause tremors?” Dean traced the rim of his glass with his finger. “Now that I’m giving this full-time artist thing a go, it’s pretty important that my fingers do what I want.”

Seamus nodded, and Dean tried to still the stab of guilt he felt. It wasn’t a lie, of course – he was well-versed in the art of carefully framing sentences to not be outright lies. It was still misleading, though. Then again, he was certainly not going to tell the truth. _Yeah, sorry I’m not such a great drinking buddy anymore, Shay. It’s just that I’m a pretty affectionate drunk, which was fine when we were just friends, but now that I’m crushing on you like a fourteen-year-old, I’m afraid of what I’d do._

That would not go over well.

“I don’t mind if you drink, you know,” he added after a moment.

“It’s no fun without you,” Seamus grumbled. “No reason to go for the Firewhiskey when you’re sittin’ here drinking pumpkin juice.”

“You’re Irish, man, since when do you need a reason to drink?”

Seamus laughed, and Dean tried valiantly to ignore the eruption of butterflies in his stomach in response to that sound. Honestly, this whole Fancying Seamus thing was just so _inconvenient_. Ten years of friendship, and now he had to ruin their easy-going camaraderie with his stupid hormones.

Of course, Seamus had always been good-looking and fun and just generally quite amazing, but somehow it hadn’t ever sparked any kind of romantic feelings in Dean. Even after Dean had discovered he liked boys as well as girls – through an unfortunate crush on a male classmate – he’d simply seen Seamus as his friend. Then, four months ago, they’d gone flying together and been surprised by a storm. When they were back at Dean’s place, soaking wet, Dean had offered his friend a clean shirt. And Seamus hadn’t thought twice about stripping off his t-shirt. There was no reason, really; he’d done it hundreds of times at Hogwarts. This time had been different, though, for Dean if not for Seamus. Dean had been treated to an eyeful of toned muscles and smooth skin, which had prompted the thoughts of _since when is Seamus this hot?_ and _I wonder what it would be like to touch that skin._ Once the idea had taken hold, Dean couldn’t let go. He started thinking about how well they’d always communicated and how much he enjoyed spending time with Seamus and how their opinions and interests seemed to fit like corresponding puzzle pieces. He hadn’t thought of anything else that night, and in the following weeks and months he’d found it impossible to ban the idea from his head.

“So how’s the drawing thing going, then?” Seamus asked, pulling Dean from his thoughts. “You know, the one you were gonna work on this week. What was it again, some sorta ill   ustration?”

“Yeah, for a book. For muggle pre-schoolers. It’s going pretty well,” Dean responded. “I’ve got four of the drawings done. I have to make sixteen of them, though, so it’ll take a while longer. It’s been fun to work on. The book is about dragons, actually. Can’t let on that I’ve seen real dragons, of course, but even so I can put some realistic details in.”

“Can I see it?”

Dean smiled. Seamus had always been eager to see his artwork, even back in their early Hogwarts days when he hadn’t yet been very good. After Hogwarts, when most of Dean’s friends had questioned his decision to go to a muggle art school rather than choose a wizarding occupation, Seamus had been a constant source of unwavering support. “’Course,” Dean said.

Seamus jumped up at once, enthusiastic as ever, and followed Dean to his studio. It was tiny, because there was no such thing as ‘spacious flats’ in London, and definitely not in the price range of an aspiring artist. Dean flicked on the bright lights, a sharp contrast to the dimly lit living room.

“That’s gorgeous, mate,” Seamus said, stepping close to the drawing board. Dean had spent quite enough time that day looking at the drawing, so he watched Seamus instead. Watching Seamus had become a bit of an addiction of late.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

The Irishman commented on the dragons in the various illustrations Dean had produced. Dean paid just enough attention to hum at the right moments. The rest of his focus was unerringly fixed on analysing the exact shade of Seamus’ hair and the way his shirt moved up _just so_ as he leaned forward, revealing a tiny sliver of skin.

 _For fuck’s sake, get a grip,_ he told himself for the millionth time. It didn’t work. Not that Dean had expected it to.

Under different circumstances, he might’ve just asked Seamus out. He was a Gryffindor, after all. Taking risks was part of the deal. But Seamus was the most relentlessly heterosexual person he knew. He went on dates with girls at least once a week. They were always different; never had he yet managed to make it to a second date. According to legend, he’d just walk up to girls in bars and ask them out, and they’d always say yes, because apparently, a date with Seamus was the best thing that could happen to a girl. According to Dean, the first part of that was not true, because when they were in the Leaky Cauldron or in a bar somewhere, Seamus rarely did the approaching - instead, girls flocked to him. According to Seamus… well, Dean didn’t really know what happened according to Seamus. Given that he’d never managed to tell the Irishman that he was bisexual, Dean didn’t feel that it was very appropriate to ask him about his exploits. And Seamus never volunteered any information. He occasionally mentioned dates, but the extent of his reputation meant that Dean mostly heard about it from other people.

Before the Incident of the Shirtless Seamus, he’d always felt that it was Seamus’ personal business. If he wanted Dean to know, he’d tell him. These days, he would very much like to know what exactly was going on, for reasons he didn’t really care to examine, which were most definitely _not_ linked to jealousy. At all.       

“Dean. I’m talking.” Seamus was waving at him from beside the drawing board, looking amused. “I was saying these are great, but you didn’t appear to hear me. What were you thinking of, mate?”

“Nothing. Just…” he trailed off, realising belatedly that Seamus would not let such a vague statement go.

“Just what?” Seamus asked, true to form. Dean said nothing. “What?” Seamus repeated impatiently.

“Those girls you date,” Dean blurted, entirely without conscious decision to do so.

A beat of silence. Seamus stared at him, one eyebrow raised. His surprise was justified, given that Dean hadn’t voluntarily entered a discussion about girls or dating since their Hogwarts days. “What about them?” Seamus asked.

“Nothing, just… Do you actually sleep with all of them?” Dean said, cursing his stupid mouth that wouldn’t just stay shut. He thanked the heavens that his dark skin couldn’t reveal that he was blushing. If only he could take back what he’d said, but it was clearly too late. He reminded himself that if this conversation really went south, he could always obliviate Seamus. Not that he wanted to resort to that, or that he was particularly skilled at obliviation, but at least he could reassure himself that there were fail-safes for messing up.

Seamus looked puzzled rather than annoyed. “You… I’m lookin’ at yer drawings and you’re wonderin’ about my sex life?” Surprise made his accent more pronounced – another thing Dean had never really noticed which he was now hyperaware of.

“Well, yes,” he said.

“If we’re going to talk about sex, I’m going to need that Firewhiskey.” Seamus nodded in the direction of the living room.

Half excited to get answers, half scared that he might not like them, Dean left the studio with Seamus in tow. While Seamus got comfortable on the couch, he walked to the kitchen and found a bottle of Firewhiskey. After some deliberation, he poured them both a glass.

“Is this all it takes to get you drinking again?” Seamus asked when he came back.

“Apparently,” Dean muttered.

“Why do you ask, anyway?” Seamus took a glass and sipped at it.

“Just wondering,” he responded.

“Now, after I’ve been pulling all al  sorts of girls for years? You never asked before,” Seamus said.

“Figured it was your business. The question just sort of slipped out earlier,” Dean said. Not a lie, he reminded himself. It was just… only part of the truth. A white lie.

“Right.” Seamus didn’t say anything else; he just sat perfectly still on the other end of the couch, slowing drinking his whiskey.

Close to answers now, Dean was beginning to get impatient. “So?” he asked after a moment.

“I sleep with most of ‘em, yeah,” Seamus said, looking at his glass. “Not all of them. Depends, really.”

“On what?”

“Whether I like them enough, I suppose.”

Dean took a sip of Firewhiskey and felt it burn down his throat. It fought with the thing that was categorically _not jealousy,_ which was also apparently trying to burn his body from the inside out. The thought of Seamus sleeping with any of those girls made him cringe. That sort of thing would’ve been fine with Dean if anyone else did it, but it was another matter entirely when it was his best friend and secret crush.

Although ‘crush’ might not be the right word. The hormonal butterfly situation made Dean feel like he was a teenager again, but it wasn’t just that, and he knew it. This wasn’t just physical attraction and a vague idea of kissing or sex or anything. This was the real deal, because he couldn’t stop imagining actually sharing his life with Seamus. He already loved Seamus, anyway, because they’d been friends for years. It had been entirely too easy to transfer that sentiment to romantic contexts.

The thought of Seamus sleeping with anyone but him made him feel horrible, so he shoved the idea away. A dozen questions took its place, and since tonight was apparently a no-restraints kind of day, he asked one. “So what’s it like?”

Seamus frowned, and Dean figured it stood to reason that at some point his odd questions would cross the line. He opened his mouth to tell Seamus to forget all about it, but his friend was already talking. “Depends on the girl, too,” he said. “But don’t tell me you don’t know what sex is like. Surely, with Ginny…”

“But you know Ginny,” Dean protested. “I can’t tell you about that. You’re friends with her.”

Seamus looked disgruntled. “That’s not very fair, given the questions you’ve just asked me,” he said. “I guess you can’t tell me about Maria, either. I still talk to her.”

Dean nodded. He’d broken up with Maria eight months ago after dating her for three months. She was a nice girl, but they hadn’t really communicated well. In the end, they just hadn’t taken enough time out of their busy lives. “Yeah. Sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Seamus said, but he didn’t look content. He actually looked vaguely embarrassed, now that Dean couldn’t counter Seamus’ confessions with some of his own.

Seeing Seamus unhappy made something twist in Dean’s stomach. He didn’t know whether it was the Firewhiskey or just the fact that he’d apparently lost all self-control today, but suddenly he was saying, “I did actually date someone else. Besides Ginny and Maria.”

Seamus’ head shot up. “What? When?”

 _What am I doing?_ Dean frantically asked himself. Even so, he kept talking. “About a year and a half ago. Dated for four months, never told you,” he said quietly.

Seamus looked shocked and curious. “How… I never knew! Seriously? You saw me at least once a week and never bothered to mention you had a girlfriend? Or did you obliviate me afterwards? Surely she couldn’t have been that embarrassing.” He chuckled quietly at his own joke, but still looked at Dean expectantly.

 _In for a Knut, in for a Galleon,_ Dean told himself. It was about time Seamus knew about this, anyway – he couldn’t keep it hidden forever. It didn’t mean he was telling his friend about his current… interest. Just an old relationship, and possibly the rest of his sexual history once Seamus realised he’d been missing out on a lot of information.

Even so, he couldn’t meet Seamus’ eyes, and his whisper of _itwasn’tagirl_ was barely audible.

“What? Speak up, mate, I want to hear this,” Seamus said.

Dean looked at the wall, which held a mural he’d painted himself. He scraped his throat. “It wasn’t a girl,” he said, marginally louder.

“It wasn’t…” Seamus trailed off, and then Dean heard him suck in a quick breath as the meaning behind the words sank in. Silence descended. Dean could hear his heartbeat, could feel it reverberate through his body. His brain helpfully supplied the idea that he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Seamus’ voice was quiet when he spoke. “You’re bi and you never told me?” Despite the low volume, he sounded upset. Angry, perhaps, though Dean couldn’t really tell because he still wasn’t looking.

There was a lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Sorry. I just…” He clenched his fists. “If you’re angry, if you… You don’t have to…” He took a deep breath. “You can go home if you want,” he offered helplessly, a strange mix of nausea and pain settling in his stomach.

“What?” Seamus asked distractedly. “Oh. No, wait. I didn’t mean… Hey, Dean, look at me, mate.” Dean cautiously turned his head and met Seamus’ gaze. Seamus looked back unflinchingly. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “It’s fine, all right? It’s not a problem, not at all, I just… You never told me.” He wasn’t angry. The relief was almost tangible, but it didn’t distract Dean from the fact that Seamus did look hurt, just a bit.

“If it helps, you’re still the first person to know,” he offered. “Apart from the guy I dated, obviously.”

A corner of Seamus’ mouth lifted in a smile. “Appreciated,” he said. “Not even your parents?”

Dean shook his head. “’S why Brent broke up with me,” he said. “’Cause I wouldn’t tell anyone. It was fine, at first. He was all right with nobody knowing. But then it meant he couldn’t meet my parents, of course, and I couldn’t really commit to anything. He wanted me to at least tell him when I was going to come out, you know? But I wouldn’t, so he broke up with me.”

“Bastard,” Seamus said, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh, almost giddy with relief that Seamus was just taking this in stride.

“Yeah, it sucked,” he said. “I really did like him.”

“Was he the first?” Seamus asked. He seemed genuinely interested, which was more than Dean had dared to hope for.

“First guy I was with, yeah,” Dean said.

“Not the first guy you liked, then,” Seamus surmised.

He shook his head. “No. That was in sixth year.”

Seamus frowned. Dean suspected he felt hurt again because Dean had known for so long and never told him, but instead Seamus asked, “Who was it? In sixth year.”

“Oh no,” Dean said, shaking his head. “No, I can’t tell you.”

“Come on, Dean, please?” Seamus looked at him imploringly, which was _definitely not_ adorable.

Dean groaned, burying his head in his hands.

“Please?”

“Fine!” he bit out. “Fine, it was Harry, all right? No, actually it was not all right, because we were friends, and besides he was _dating my ex_ , whom I’d only just got over anyway, and it was fucking embarrassing. I didn’t know how to deal with it or what to do about it, and I wanted to tell my parents, I really did, but…” He took a deep breath. “There was all this Voldemort shit going on, and they were in danger because I couldn’t prove I had a magical heritage. My family, _they_ were all in danger because of who _I_ was, and I wasn’t going to add to that, give them more trouble somehow because I wasn’t straight as well as not being muggle. I just… It was war. I couldn’t even _think_ about stepping out of the closet. And by the time all of that was over, it was two years later and it already felt too late, right? It was already harder because I’d known for so long myself, so I put it off and it just got worse. Every time I missed an opportunity to tell them, I’d remind myself that if I did tell them next time, they’d remember all those times I could’ve told them but didn’t. And it was the same with you, Shay; I swear I wanted to tell you. I’ve wanted to tell you since forever, since the start, I just didn’t know what to say.” It was an unimaginable relief to be able to talk about this, because nobody but Brent had ever known. Talking to Brent had been great, but Brent hadn’t been a lifelong friend. Besides, he was a muggle, which meant that a whole different array of secrets had to be kept from him.

“It’s okay,” Seamus said. “I get it, I swear.”

Dean took another deep breath. “Thanks. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Don’t be.”

He poured himself another Firewhiskey. The nerve-wracking coming-out and subsequent relief had left him feeling quite worn out, though it wasn’t yet ten o’clock. He felt surprisingly content now, just sitting here with Seamus, who finally knew he was bi and didn’t seem to really care one way or the other.

“So who was this Brent? Tell me about him,” Seamus said.

“Right, yeah,” Dean said, still a bit unsure. He’d never talked about Brent to anyone, for obvious reasons. “Um, well, he was in my year at art school.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “Pretty tall. Not as tall as me, though, and not as dark-skinned. He had some Indian ancestry. He specialised in visual arts, like me – he was a wizard with a paintbrush. No pun intended. He wasn’t actually a wizard, of course. Only person who knew I was bi, but he in turn couldn’t know I was magical folk. It’s a good thing I keep my flat mostly muggle-looking, anyway.”

“How did you meet?” Seamus asked quietly.

“Took a bunch of the same classes. We had since we were freshers. I liked him right away, but nothing serious, you know? Then one day he just came up to me after class and said he didn’t mean to be rude, but was I into men and if so, would I go out for drinks with him? So I said yes, obviously. We went out a couple of times, and it was great. It was… I couldn’t really be myself, you know, because I had to hide my magic, but at least I didn’t have to hide being bi. We’d be at a bar, and if I saw someone good-looking, I could just say so, you know? Didn’t have to stop to consider their gender.”

“Just the tender sensibilities of your boyfriend,” Seamus inserted. Dean couldn’t see him on account of keeping his eyes closed, but Seamus sounded perfectly calm and interested. It was still nothing short of miraculous.

“No, it was fine. He wasn’t really the jealous type. And he thought it was sweet that he was my first guy. At first, at least. Then after a while it started to annoy him. Me not being out meant we couldn’t go to places near where my friends lived. Also, he wanted it to be serious, but for him that meant meeting my parents and my friends, the ones who weren’t at art school. And I just couldn’t, you know. He tried to make me tell Mum and Dad, but I wanted it to be my choice, so I said I wouldn’t do it unless I wanted to. He waited for about another month, after that, and then one day he came to my flat and said, ‘We need to talk.’ Right away, I knew it was over. It was… not fun. I really, really liked him.”

Dean lifted his head and glanced over at Seamus, who was gazing steadily back. “And you couldn’t tell anyone,” Seamus said.

He breathed out slowly and nodded. “I wanted to tell you, but… I’d never really thought you’d hate me for it, before then, but when Brent walked out… I just felt like shit, man. Made me think that maybe you’d walk out of our friendship, if I told you.” Seamus opened his mouth to protest, but Dean held up a hand to stop him. “I know you wouldn’t. I knew it before then, and I knew it after. At the time, though… I couldn’t really think straight, I suppose.”

“Think straight. Ha. Sounds to me like you certainly weren’t thinking _straight_.” Seamus grinned at him, and Dean laughed despite the circumstances.

“Funny, Shay. Real funny.” He picked up his glass of whiskey.

“You haven’t told me about the sex,” Seamus said, grinning wickedly at him.

Dean made an effort to swallow his whiskey and not choke. “Do I have to?” Seamus raised an eyebrow, and he sighed. “Fine. Well, I can’t tell you about the sex, because there wasn’t any. We weren’t together for very long, and neither of us really felt ready for it, you know? So we mostly just kissed. A lot.”

“What was it like?”

Dean stared at Seamus, who calmly stared back. “You want to know what it was like to make out with a guy?”

“Well, you asked me the same question,” Seamus said.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for the bi-curious type,” Dean muttered.

“I’m not,” was the immediate response, which made Dean berate himself for even temporarily thinking so. _He’s straight, you fool. Get over him_. It was a nice reminder that his newfound openness with Seamus still didn’t solve the immediate problem of Dean crushing on him. Well, being in love with him really.

“Right, well, it’s… pretty great,” Dean said. “Brent was pretty good. Better than Maria, that’s for sure. Oh, shit, now I am talking about Maria.” Seamus laughed at him.

“Brent was good,” Dean repeated. He finished his second glass of whiskey. “It’s… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not really that different from girls. I mean, it’s really just the person, right? Not the gender. Although I’ve only ever tried it with one guy, so I can’t really say for sure.”

“Think you’ll date more guys, then?” Seamus asked.

“Dunno,” he responded. “If I run into anyone worthy. And he’d have to be into men, obviously.” He smiled wryly, but Seamus didn’t notice.

“Suppose the odds are against you,” Seamus said.

“Come on,” Dean said, grinning, “who could look at this and stay straight?” He gestured vaguely at his body.

“Who indeed,” his best friend mumbled.

Seamus left well after midnight. They’d dropped the topic of sex and sexuality, and Dean had managed to avoid getting drunk, even though the bottle of Firewhiskey had sat on the table the entire time. All in all, the visit was an unmitigated success.

Dean rinsed out their glasses and turned off the lights in the living room. He was exhausted – it felt as though his blood had turned into molasses. At the same time, he couldn’t remember being so content. He’d hidden his sexuality for so long that he’d forgotten what it was like not to have to lie about it, even if it was just to one person. It had been like that with Brent, but Seamus… Seamus was just better. Had known him forever and knew he was a wizard. There were no secrets left. Well, almost none. Seamus knew him, knew everything, and he was fine with it. More than fine, he seemed curious, interested. It was everything Dean had dared to hope and more.

Sleep came easy that night. Not for the first time, he dreamed of Seamus, but he didn’t really mind.

\--

In the end, life after Seamus knew was pretty similar to life before he knew. Dean worked on the dragon illustrations. He went to football practices. He saw _The Fellowship of the Ring_ with some friends from art school, and had a secret laugh about Gandalf and his staff – was he compensating for something? And he met Neville for coffee to catch up.

“So Neville, is he hot?” Seamus asked out of the blue when they were having drinks at the Leaky Cauldron.

“I don’t know, man, he’s Neville,” Dean said. “He’s been my friend since forever.”

“But you can still tell, right? Besides, being friends didn’t stop you with Harry in sixth,” Seamus said.

 _Or with you, right now_ , Dean added in his mind. “Guess not.” He thought of Neville, who together with Ron had the dubious honour of being the dorm-mates Dean had never crushed on. “He’s all right, I suppose.” He winced at how cavalier that sounded. “I mean, he’s not really my type. I guess he’s sort of handsome, though.”

“Am I? Handsome?”

Dean clenched his fists beneath the table as a hot wave of shock coursed through him at the unexpected question. “Uh,” he said intelligently. Seamus looked at him expectantly, looking mildly curious to hear the answer. “Uh, I guess?” He recovered somewhat, and continued, “I mean, you’re the great Seamus Finnigan. All the girls want to be with you.”

“They’re just girls,” Seamus said dismissively. Dean raised an eyebrow, and his friend hastily added, “Not that I don’t respect girls.”

Dean laughed. “Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re plenty handsome,” he said, and ignored the twist in his stomach.

\--

On a Friday afternoon, six weeks after his first coming-out experience, he finished the illustrations for the dragon book. Unwilling to stay in the house, he firecalled Luna, who immediately invited him over. He soon found himself in her house, looking somewhat dubiously at the tea he’d been served. Over the past few years, Luna had made tremendous improvements in the department of Serving Palatable Tea, but it was still hit-and-miss sometimes. He sipped the hot drink carefully and discovered he was in luck today. The flavour seemed to be a mix of something flowery and something citrusy, and it was not unpleasant.

“Did you read the latest issue of the _Quibbler_?” Luna asked him.

Dean shook his head. Although he received the _Quibbler_ every month, he rarely got past the first page. It wasn’t the magazine itself. He just made it a point, in general, to not read unless he really had to. He wasn’t a particularly fast reader and he’d never really been into novels. Occasionally, he’d flip through the pages of the _Prophet_ , so he was at least marginally up-to-date on what was going on in the wizarding world.

Luna didn’t seem to mind. “I’ll just tell you about it,” she said, apparently perfectly content with that solution. “So we ran this article about fire crabs…”

She told him about some strange owls she’d received in response to the article, and he told her about the illustrations he’d finished that day. “I’ll hear back from the publishing company in two weeks,” he said. “It’s my first proper assignment, you know. I’m excited to hear what they think.”

She nodded serenely. “I’m sure they’ll like it. Your drawings are very good,” she said matter-of-factly.

Dean smiled gratefully, putting his mug down. “Would you like more tea?” Luna asked. She got up when he nodded and retrieved the teapot. “How’s Seamus?” she asked as she poured him another mug.

As always, Dean’s heart beat a little faster at the sound of Seamus’ name. “He’s the same as ever,” he said, carefully keeping his voice level. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, because he stopped dating,” she said. “I thought it was strange. So sudden.”

“He stopped dating?” Dean echoed.

“Did he not tell you?” Luna asked. “I thought you two told each other everything.” Dean frowned. Luna meant no offense – she never did – but the comment still stung a little. “He hasn’t been on a date in over a month. Ginny told me. I’m not sure why.”

“Oh,” Dean said, trying to still his racing thoughts. “I’ll ask him about it next time.”

\--

He didn’t, though, because Luna’s gossip wasn’t always to be trusted. So he waited and watched, and soon learned that she had been right. Seamus had never gone out of his way to tell Dean about his dates, but there always had been names mentioned every now and then. There had been times Seamus rescheduled seeing Dean because he had a date. Now, there was none of that. When they went out to bars, there were still girls coming to talk to them (well, to Seamus), but Seamus was markedly less enthusiastic than before.

It took Dean a few weeks to be sure, but when he was, he resolved to bring it up. It must be related to their earlier discussion – clearly the abrupt dating cessation didn’t coincidentally happen immediately afterwards.

A Sunday afternoon in November found them playing Goldeneye 007 on Dean’s Nintendo 64. They were sitting next to each other on the couch, their knees almost touching. It was more than a little distracting. Luckily, Dean had much more practice with the game. Despite the distraction, he was at twelve kills versus Seamus’ four. “So how come you never date anymore?” he asked as his on-screen character picked up a different weapon.

Seamus shrugged, mashing the buttons of his controller as his character navigated the corridors of the game. “No reason,” he said.

“Right,” Dean responded. “So I’m supposed to believe that you go on at least one date a week, every week, for two years straight, and then you suddenly stop, and it just happens to be right after I made you tell me about it?” He fired, and Seamus’ half of the screen turned blood red. Seamus huffed in frustration. “Look, did I make you stop? Is there a problem with me asking about, you know, the sex or anything…” He trailed off.

“No, mate, that’s not…” Seamus looked at him quickly before returning his attention to the game. Dean kept his eyes on the screen, guiding his character through the maze. “That’s not it, at all. I don’t mind that you asked about it. I just… It didn’t really feel right anymore. ‘Cause I wasn’t ever planning to go steady with any of them. And it just felt like I was dating for no reason. Then you came out and told me about Brent, and I just… didn’t want to go on another useless date, I guess.”

“Oh,” Dean said, unsure what to think of that. He focused on the game, but his thoughts were still whirling. They played in silence for a few minutes; the only sound was that of the gunshots on-screen.

“I’m gay,” Seamus said.

Dean very nearly dropped his controller, and Seamus immediately killed his character.

For a moment, Dean thought Seamus might’ve been joking, might’ve said it just to distract him and win the round, but then he glanced sideways and saw Seamus’ eyes fixed anxiously on his face. “I’m gay,” Seamus repeated.

Dean hit the pause button. “So the dates?” he managed to say. It wasn’t the best sentence he’d ever produced, but that was probably due to the fact that his thoughts were screaming _oh Merlin he’s gay oh shit what does this mean?_

“They weren’t really… I mean I wasn’t into any of those girls. I’m not bi like you. They’re fine, I just don’t… see what the big deal is. I guess I had those dates anyway, and slept with them and everything, because I, well, it was something normal, and because, well…” Seamus looked at the frozen screen of Dean’s TV, struggling to find the words. “Because I wanted to… not be gay.”

Dean felt a stab of sympathetic pain run through him at those words. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “How long…” He trailed off, not sure if he should be asking questions at all.

Seamus smiled a little. “Forever,” he said. “I knew before I went to Hogwarts. ‘s Not the kind of thing you tell your new friends, though. Especially not when you’re eleven. Then later, I thought you guys would freak out or something. We were all sharing a dorm and everything. And I just… I didn’t know anyone else who was gay. Anyone. I thought I was going crazy, first, back in elementary school. Still sometimes think that.”

“You’re not crazy,” Dean said quietly. “Being gay isn’t crazy.” It was strange to say those words and know they related to Seamus. Seamus was gay. Seamus. Gay. His best friend, whom he was madly in love with, was into men. Possibly still not into _him_ , of course. It was just a thousand times as hard now not to at least hope for it. But this moment was about Seamus, and not about Dean’s crush. He pushed the thoughts away.

“Yeah,” Seamus said. He looked at the controller in his hands, turning it around and around as he spoke. “I had the same thing as you, you know. Where you wait until it’s too late to tell someone, and then it just becomes harder because you’ve lied to them for years. Me mam knows. She just saw it, back when I was ten or eleven, and she asked me about it, and I told her yes. She told my da, too. They never minded, but I still couldn’t tell anyone at school. And after Hogwarts, Neville mentioned I’d never had a date – didn’t mean anything by it, of course, this is Neville we’re talking about. I thought about coming out, then, but I just couldn’t do it. Then a few weeks later, this girl chatted to me at a bar and I just asked her out on a whim. Before I knew it, there were all these rumours going around of how thoroughly heterosexual I was.”

“And then you definitely couldn’t come out,” Dean said quietly.

“Yeah,” Seamus said. “I thought it didn’t matter, anyway, because I’d never met anyone else who was into men, so I was never going to end up with anyone. Then you told me about you. And this Brent guy. And I just…” He leaned forward, resting his lower arms on his knees. “I thought maybe it wasn’t so hopeless after all.”

“If I can get a date, anyone can, eh?” Dean said with a chuckle. Seamus grinned at him, still looking a little anxious but a lot calmer than before.

Dean nodded at the frozen screen. “Should I turn that off, or do you want to keep playing?” he asked.

“Keep playing. I’m not going to be beaten by you, Thomas,” Seamus said.

“You don’t stand a chance, Finnigan,” Dean responded, un-pausing the game. His character regenerated on the screen, and a few seconds later they were hunting each other down in the maze again.

“So we need to talk about something, given what you just told me,” Dean said after a while, mostly to distract himself from his still-frantic thoughts. Seamus glanced at him uncertainly, and he smiled. “The Tutshill Tornadoes’ keeper. Because I’m sure you’ll agree with me that he’s the hottest piece of ass on the planet.”

Seamus broke out into a grin that warmed Dean’s heart. “Merlin, yes,” he said. “I don’t understand how anyone can even be so gorgeous.”

They both looked away from the screen for just long enough to meet each other’s eyes. Dean couldn’t help but smile again at the relief and happiness on Seamus’ face.

As they turned their attention to the game again, he remembered something. “That time you asked about Neville, if I thought he was hot,” he said. “And about you.”

“Yeah,” Seamus said, all at once sounding unsure and embarrassed.

That question was suddenly put in a different light. Dean paused the game again. “You were serious, weren’t you? You really didn’t know if you’re…” He trailed off. Seamus looked down at his hands. Dean nudged Seamus’ knee with his. “Hey, Shay, it’s all right. Listen, it’s not just the girls, okay? Guys will also want to date the great Seamus Finnigan, I swear.”

To his surprise, Seamus didn’t look relieved. He was still staring at his hands. Dean was sitting close enough that he could see they were shaking. “I haven’t told you everything,” Seamus said.

Dean was at a loss as to what he could be talking about. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly. “You can tell me anything, Shay.”

“I didn’t ask you because you’re a guy,” Seamus said, his voice so low that Dean could barely make out the words. “I asked you because you’re you, and, and…”

Dean’s heartbeat picked up as his mind tried to figure out all the possible connotations of Seamus’ jumbled sentence. Did Seamus mean…? With wide eyes, he met Seamus’ gaze. “And what?” he asked, hardly daring to hope.

“I…” Seamus trailed off, anxiety in his eyes. Dean’s gaze flicked down when he saw Seamus clench his fists. He looked back up just in time to see the anxiety replaced by determined Gryffindor spirit as Seamus, all of a sudden, leaned in and pressed their lips together.

It was just a peck. Then Seamus was moving back again, but Dean didn’t let him. He dropped his controller – who in his right mind would give two Knuts about Goldeneye 007 when he could be _kissing Seamus_? – put his hand on the back of Seamus’ neck, pulled him closer, and kissed him again.

His heart exploded, or maybe it was the butterflies who had spawned a new generation and had multiplied in number. He parted his lips and felt Seamus follow his lead.

Eventually, they moved apart. Seamus looked quite dazed, and Dean remembered that this was his first kiss with a guy. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, yeah, I…” Seamus ran a hand through his hair, which stuck up in an awfully cute fashion. “So you…?” he trailed off uncertainly.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I may have wanted to do that for, well, months.”

“Really?” Seamus broke out into a grin, suddenly looking more ecstatic than Dean ever remembered seeing him.

“Yeah, really,” Dean said, as an answering smile spread across his face. “And you?”

Seamus blushed, and Dean thought _that’s adorable_ and didn’t have to deny it or force himself to think otherwise. “Um, sixth year,” Seamus said quietly. “Sort of off and on, since then. Definitely on again after you told me you were bi.”

Five years. That was quite something. “I should’ve come out sooner,” Dean said. “We could’ve–”

“No, don’t,” Seamus said. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to think about what could have been, not now.”

“Okay,” Dean responded. “What do you want, then?”

“Kiss me,” Seamus said, his low voice echoing the desire Dean felt. They leaned in simultaneously and brought their lips together again. Dean took a chance and slipped his hand under Seamus’ shirt, revelling in the feeling of smooth skin. Seamus groaned, and the sound sent sparks of lust shooting through Dean’s body.

“Oh Merlin, you are so much better than girls,” Seamus said when they paused for breath.

Dean chuckled breathlessly. “You’d say making out with guys is a success so far, then?”

“Don’t know about guys,” Seamus said. “But with you, yeah, kissin’ you is good.”

“D’you want to be my boyfriend?” Dean asked, in yet another fit of Speaking Without Thinking. It had worked well for him so far, and this time was no exception.

“You bet,” Seamus said.

Dean kissed him again. Then he reached for his controller, which had fallen to the floor. “I’m still going to beat you in Goldeneye,” he said.

Seamus grinned at him and shifted closer to lean against him. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: What did you think? Please write me a review to let me know, for I dearly love receiving them :)   
> Special thanks to Marnel for being game-savvy enough to take all of three seconds to answer “Goldeneye 007 on the N64” when I asked her what game two twenty-something men would play in 2002/2003. And special thanks to Caroline for not being a totally sexually inexperienced recluse like me, and helping me figure out a bunch of realistic sexual habits and histories for Dean and Seamus.


End file.
